


Intrigue

by paperdollkisses



Series: L.I.E.S. [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Clint, BAMF Phil, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, M/M, SHIELD based, hearing impaired Clint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4209327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdollkisses/pseuds/paperdollkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton, Master Tactician and Sniper is damn good at his job. SHIELD approves of most of the ends if not all of the means and he's happy with that and his life. By some fluke Phil Coulson has come into his life. Can they survive through the demands of SHIELD, betrayal, and insecurity?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intrigue

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware of the tags. They will change with chapters as needed.

“Fuck!” the word rang through his head even over the ringing in his ears.

The low temperature of the early morning had given away to just plain cold as the first light of the day colored the sky. His target had shown himself as expected but instead of Clint’s shot taking him down, the deep growl of an explosion had ripped through the air. The force pushed him away from the edge and he fell on his back, covering his head with his arms to keep the debris from his face. The com went quiet and he felt the second blast, the building trembled below him. Another part of the wall fell.

Clint dug through the rocks and rubble to retrieve the rifle case. He grabbed the scuffed handle to pull it out and hastily stuffed the broken down rifle into it. Thanks to the gloves he wore when shooting his prints wouldn’t be on it, but you never knew who in the organization might have been careless. He preferred not to leave that to chance. Clint winced a little as the feedback shrieked through his ears from the fritzed com slash hearing aids. He couldn’t afford to take them out because you just didn’t know if it was the end of their life span or if they would come back. The feedback squeal meant it could go either way.

“Fuck!” he said again as his shoulder twinged when he pushed himself off the ground.

R&D had made this uniform especially for colder climates. Most of his uniforms were weatherproof and weapon-proof if he wanted to brag about it. Right now though, he wanted to thank the material for holding his probably dislocated shoulder in place and compressing the muscles. Clint’s boots slid as he moved around the large hole in what used to be the roof and made his way to the stairs.

Clint swore under his breath again at the sharp spike of sound from the com. “Fuck!” as took the stairs down 4 at a time.

He made himself walk slowly through the door, his unsteady gait not just for show. He lifted one arm up and wiped away the blood that was dripping from the cut above his eyebrow. Clint didn’t have to worry about looking out of place. The scene was pure chaos and his breath skipped as he stepped over what was left of the old man that had been setting up his bread cart. The fresh scent of it had wafted up the three stories and he’d looked down earlier. A young girl and boy in tattered clothes knelt by the cart now, snatching up all the dusty bread they could carry and looking up with scared, wide eyes. He felt the horror of the situation roll through him at that moment. 

He looked over to where the mark had been, the only thing there a large depression in the road. There was no way to tell whether he was alive or dead but at this point he needed to get out of the area and contact SHIELD. Being sent on a solo op meant no true backup except for what he provided for himself. Clint saw the lights of emergency vehicles and caught himself before he cursed again. He had to move.

Clint didn’t stop until he’d put a mile between the site and himself. By that time he’d grabbed another jacket and pulled it around himself and the rifle case over his shoulder. Another area and he’d cleaned most of the grime from his hair and face. He’d been able to follow his original escape route but once he hit that mile marker he’d decided to use safe house number two. Fortunately that only meant he had to hit up the car he’d parked a few blocks over and then he’d be out of the city within the hour. Nodding to himself he changed direction.

Twenty hours later Clint walked off the transport jet and jogged across the tarmac to stop in front of the hastily set up com station. The agent there gave him a brief nod and returned to his screen and headphones. Clint handed off the damaged coms to the R&D lackey that came up to him and watched as they were stowed in a fingerprint locked box before turning to accept the tablet being held out to him.

“Standby for secure communications.” the tech handed Clint a headset designed specifically for him. 

It took a few minutes but Fury, Coulson and Maria Hill came into focus on the screen. He could see Ramirez and at least one other agent in the room. Hendricks, he noted. Clint stood at attention, his gaze lingering on Coulson unbidden for a moment.

“Hawkeye, any updates?” Hill was the one taking point.

“None as of this time, sir. The transmission of my original report stands and as you can see I was able to leave the area with only a few scrapes and bruises. Have we heard anything about our target?”

Hill shook her head. “As far as we know, the target is dead. Our sources are saying that there is a minor uproar in the ranks as the various leaders determine who will take over the role. By minor uproar they mean that a few of the heads have rolled to eliminate the competition.”

“And the men that were with the target? Accounted for or dead?” Clint had picked up a pen and was tapping it against his palm.

“Our source tells us that six of the eight are dead.” Coulson interjected looking at his tablet.

Clint nodded. “Are we sure this Giodarno guy isn’t just pulling a Mark Twain on us?” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as several eyebrows raised in question. “You know… _stories of my death have been greatly exaggerated_ ” and then under his breath “Doesn’t anyone read anymore?” before looking at the bunch on the screen. “It seems to be doing a pretty good job of getting rid of the deadweight in his organization… is what I’m trying to get at here.”

Coulson’s mouth twitched a little at the corner and Clint could see the amusement in his eyes when he looked up again. “It is definitely something to consider, Hawkeye. We have new intel coming in that might make more sense if we consider him alive.” 

“Ok, you’re on 24 hour stand-down as of now, Hawkeye. We will contact you with information on the next stop on your itinerary. Get some rest.” Hill told him before giving him a look that said ‘within reason’.

Clint smirked a little. “Sir, yes sir. Later, sirs.” and gave a jaunty little wave that just made it through before the screen went black. 

‘The hook has been set.’ he told himself, wondering who else had been in that room listening. He hadn’t been privy to all the persons of interest listed for Fury’s little conspiracy theory. He just had to play out the hands as they were dealt. Clint shouldered his go bag and turned to see the weapons tech there to accept custody of the rifle. Once that final bit of business was done, Clint climbed on the motorcycle waiting for him and drove to the safe house on the outskirts of the city. There was no need to risk the hits on his current passport or work to avoid airport surveillance if he didn’t need to. It looked like he might be in Italy for a while.


End file.
